I couldn’t believe that time had come already. I thought it would happen when she’s older. But she seems to be catching on to popular opinion: sometimes praying is a drag.
Perhaps the more wholesome way to saying it is that sometimes it’s easy to forget about the joy of prayer. I certainly didn’t want her to fall into this trap especially when I firmly believe that she’s a home-based angel with a direct line to the The Man Upstairs.
From her behavior (running away, pretending not to hear me) I figured that our practice of prayer just meant repeating the names of each of her family members which reached new depths of boring when she started just shouting and whispering the names for variety. So with all our extra pictures lying around, we put together a picture book of our immediate famiy with some images of Mama Mary, Jesus and angels (putting to good use those souvenir postcards from my travels) to let her know it is prayer that we’re doing.
So far so good!